Private Princess

Chapter 23

The Range Rover moved at speed along the winding Welsh roads.

“You know we have speed limits here?”

Jack Morgan ignored Sharon Lewis’s comment.

Peter Knight’s caller ID appeared on the car’s system.

“Peter. What’s the ETA on the chopper?” Morgan asked.

“Thirty minutes, Jack, but I’m not calling about that. Am I on speaker?”

“You are.”

“Then you may want to take me off.”

Morgan looked for a quiet stretch of road to pull over. Leaving the engine running, he told Cook to get behind the wheel. “If you see that black BMW, hit the horn.” He left the back door wide open so he could jump inside if they needed to make a quick escape.

He walked away from the car and held his phone to his ear. “What is it, Peter?”

When Knight told him about who had followed Sir Tony into the plush London hotel, Morgan thought that he’d misheard.

“Sophie Edwards,” Knight confirmed. “We went over the footage for every night Sir Tony stayed there. Sophie arrives after him within thirty minutes, every time. We even checked the nights that Sir Tony wasn’t a guest. There’s no sign of her unless he’s there.”

Morgan thought over the inevitable conclusion. “It has to be her. She’s our blackmailer.”

“I agree,” Knight told him. “There are seven instances. It isn’t a coincidence.”

“And she’s been missing longer than Sir Tony’s been dead. He killed her then couldn’t live with the guilt.”

“Ties up nicely, doesn’t it?” Knight agreed.

Morgan looked out over the rolling hills and mountains. The highest of them was now in cloud. The rain was coming. A British summer could never be perfect.

And neither could a crime.

“I don’t know, Peter. Sophie graduated with a first from the London School of Economics. If she was a prostitute, why? She could have been making an easy six figures with that education.”

“She could,” Knight agreed. “And then there’s the shooting.”

“Exactly.” Morgan’s thoughts were gathering speed. “If Sir Tony is responsible for her disappearance, then how is he sending shooters after the investigators from the other side of the grave?”

“It doesn’t tie up that nicely after all,” Knight conceded.

“It will,” Morgan promised. “We just don’t have all the pieces yet.”

The two men lapsed into silence. Knight knew that his boss was thinking, and gave him his time.

Morgan eventually spoke. “The shooters are the best lead we have, Peter. We get them, we find out who wants to put us out of action. We get that, we know who took Sophie.”

“But we can’t get you a protection team, Jack—” Knight began.

“I don’t need one,” Morgan cut him off, friendly but firm. “I’ve got an armed police officer and a decorated soldier.”

“If you’re sure, Jack...”

“I’m sure, Peter. Call back the chopper. You keep digging in London, and I’ll find our shooters.”

The men said their goodbyes, and Morgan walked back to the Range Rover’s open door. “We’re staying in Wales,” he told the two women, before focusing on Lewis. “I need to talk to the Princess.”